Guess Who Wants To Be Brian Kinney?
by qaffanatic
Summary: It was a stupid bet, but he was so sure he would win. He just wasn't prepared for what would happen next...What if everything he did was because he was trying to be someone he couldn't be?
1. Chapter 1

**Part 1**

The problem with Brandon was that he never really was into blond twinks – not that this was a problem per se. But since Justin Taylor returned from New York, he was completely different. Before he was gone, Brandon never looked at him with more than acknowledgement. But the guy was Kinney's favorite, so Brandon supposed he must had have something special, otherwise Brian Kinney wouldn't look at him twice. But now, looking at him, he could see clearly that the blond twink was gone. The new Justin Taylor carried himself with a natural confidence and grace that Brandon found enticing.

He wondered why. Since the night he went to Brian's flat, Brian Kinney started to intrigue him, because everything he thought about the man changed that day. He changed from the stuck up man with an over sized self confidence to someone with an intriguing personality, and a beauty impossible to ignore. That was why his relationship with Justin interested Brandon. He never understood how a man like Brian would be attached to a mere twink. But this new Justin was almost another person, and Brandon had to admit that he wouldn't mind to have that blond boy for himself at some point.

Still, he never approached the young man. Rumor had it that he and Brian were living together again. Brandon found that really surprising. After the marriage fiasco, he figured Brian would not want the guy back. And Justin, living in New York and having made quite a name for himself in the art world, would have no reason to come back to tedious Pittsburgh. And yet he could see them frequently at Babylon, lips and eyes locked on the dance floor. Sometimes they went to the backroom, sometimes to the VIP lounge. But always together, and almost always just the two of them; threesomes were rare.

All the guys suddenly started to talk about Brian Kinney's new routine since Justin Taylor had arrived. He wasn't inviting anyone to his loft anymore, and on the rare occasions that he tricked, he only allowed blowjobs. No kissing, of course, but none of them expected that, because it had been a long time, years, since Brian was seen kissing anyone but Justin. But what stunned them, and what annoyed Brandon even more, was the look of sheer happiness in the couple's eyes. Kinney was so pathetic, and he didn't seem to care.

To Brandon, it was all bullshit. And it was better this way, he concluded, because HE was the true king of Babylon, even if Brian Kinney was the owner. HE was the hottest guy, and the one who never allowed himself to get attached to anyone. He was younger than Kinney, hotter, more beautiful, and even if the brunet was richer, Brandon didn't mind. What he DID mind was the way some guys still talked about Brian Kinney as the Stud of Liberty Avenue, even if the lone wolf seemed to be retired.

So, when he saw Justin Taylor alone at Woody's one night, he wondered what was wrong, because the "happy couple" were hardly seen apart anymore. It was almost like a fucking honeymoon. He watched as Justin nursed one beer after another, and smiled to himself. He could smell trouble in Paradise. He wasn't going to make a move on the guy. Yet. But curiosity killed the cat, and Brandon was, like any gay man in the world, crazy for a good gossip. Even if no one knew that.

He approached the other man cautiously. Heading for the bar, Brandon sat beside Justin and asked the bartender for a Jim Bean. That earned him a look from Justin. Seeing a good opportunity, Brandon raised his glass in a greeting. Justin looked at him from the corner of his eye and raised his own glass in return.

"Alone?" Brandon asked with a seductive smile.

"I think it's obvious." Justin replied dryly, not looking at him.

Ouch.

"Where's your…husband?" Brandon insisted. He wasn't sure he liked the fact that Justin was completely ignoring his seductive smile. But he could tell by the way the blond leaned heavily on the counter that he'd already had a lot of drinks.

"I don't have a husband."

"Oh?" _That_ was interesting.

"I have a…partner. Sort of. " Justin finished his drink with one last gulp and got up from the booth. "If you'll excuse me, I have to go," he said barely looking at the taller man.

"Can I buy you a drink?" he offered, although he knew the guy didn't need to drink much more to get drunk.

Justin eyed him wearily. "No, thanks."

"Oh, I guess you have to go home early. I bet your partner is waiting for you."

Justin looked him in the eye for the first time. "Who said I'm going home? I'm gong to Babylon." And then he smiled: a beautiful smile that seemed to illuminate the whole bar. His hair was short again, giving him a boyish look. "_He'll_ be pissed," Justin added, almost to himself. He swayed a little but regained his balance immediately and headed for the exit.

Brandon blinked. What the hell was _that_? He had seen Justin Taylor smile several times, but in the dim light of Babylon it was never too clear. Here at Woody's was a whole different thing. He wondered what the hell happened for Justin go to Babylon alone. Trouble in Paradise, indeed.

Brandon finished his drink as fast as he could. He licked his lips, thinking of Justin's smile. That was the opportunity he'd been waiting for. He wanted to see that smile again. And he definitely would like to see it while fucking the young blond, even if only to find out what Kinney liked so much about him. He was Brandon Stuart, for fuck's sake! An opportunity like that came along once in a lifetime. Besides…he would love to piss Brian Kinney off.

--

_Life was never easy for Brandon Stuart. His father, a constructor, died when he was five, leaving him and his four siblings with a woman who had never worked before. After months of not knowing what they'd have for lunch, or even if there would be any lunch at all, his mother found a job as a High School janitor. It meant they would finally go to school, because they got scholarships. But it also meant they were mocked by the other children because of their second-handed books and schoolbags. _

_Somehow, even being mocked, they all survived. Even him. He hated being pointed at. If they were going to whisper behind his back every time he passed, it would be because they envied him, because he was the best._

_He was the middle child. His two older brothers and his two younger sisters were close to each other, and Brandon always felt a little isolated. His brothers were football players, his sisters were cheerleaders. None of them really paid him much attention._

_It got worse during his adolescence, when he realized he was gay, because he had no one to confide in. And it wouldn't make any difference, because he didn't trust anyone, anyway. He looked at the boys and felt so different from them, but had no one to talk to. All he could do was observe the gay guys at his school. People always mocked them, so Brandon kept quiet. He wouldn't give them one more reason to laugh at his expense._

_Soon, he realized these same guys looked at him with longing eyes too. That's when he decided to be the most desired guy from school. He knew he had the looks, and with a little effort, he would be what he always wanted: a success. _

_He started to go to the gym every day. He wanted to have a beautiful body, because a beautiful face he already had. Soon everyone at school was whispering when he walked along the corridors, and the girls threw themselves at his feet, not even suspecting how pathetic he thought they were. Even the hetero guys didn't mess with him. Not that they knew he was gay, but they kept their distance._

_He was the only one of his family who went to college, and it was worth every night he spent trying to understand Math. His teachers liked him, especially the older ones, and he found out that if he went out with them here and there, he didn't even had to put that much effort in studying. And if, sometimes, instead of good grades, they gave him presents, who was he to complain?_

_None of his siblings went to his graduation. They weren't close at all, and when he moved out of his mother's house, he was so relieved that, for the first time in his life he was almost happy. One of his old teachers, a current lover, found him a job at the local newspaper. It was a mediocre job – he wasn't more than a secretary, but it paid the rent of a small room. _

_When he met the newspaper's owner, Larry Bishop, he could tell by the way the old man looked at him that the guy was a closet case, disguised as a family man. In a few weeks they were already lovers, and Larry started to take care of everything. Brandon moved to a beautiful apartment and stopped worrying about money. Living alone, he gained more confidence; he could bring anyone home and finally do whatever he wanted to whoever he wanted. Larry didn't know anything about Brandon's extracurricular activities, poor soul. He had a wife to come home to._

_Brandon was the only son who still visited his mother, even though every time he went there he felt her bitterness spreading through his own chest. It wasn't her fault, she always treated him kindly. But she made him feel inadequate, so his visits to the old lady were rare. His siblings were all married now, living their pathetic lives at their pathetic houses, and hardly ever paid a visit to the woman who had aged prematurely raising them_

_At night, he went to the bars and clubs. There, he practiced the arts of seduction, refining his skills. There was nothing Brandon Stuart hated more than a no. Nothing he hated more then someone wanting to be better than him, or telling him he couldn't have what he wanted. So, he made sure no one ever said no to him, and that he always got what and who he wanted. _

_He read a lot, it was important to know a little bit about everything. He left his job, because getting up early wasn't for him. Dear old Larry didn't mind. The money kept coming, because the old bastard was rich, he just worked to have an excuse to escape his wife; the bitch didn't even give him a child. Brandon studied French and Spanish, just to pass the time. All in all, life was good._

_Larry's wife didn't like when he left Brandon half his fortune. But it was written in Larry's will, so she couldn't do anything. Of course, when the old man died of a heart attack, Brandon was on 'vacation' in Puerto Vallarta. He almost came back for the funeral, but changed his mind. The offended wife wouldn't let him in, anyway. And it was not like Larry would note his absence, was it? _

_--_

The lights were bright and the music was loud. Brandon surveyed the dance floor with predatory eyes. So many hot guys, and it was always good to know he could have whoever he wanted, whenever he wanted. But tonight he didn't want any of them.

He spotted a golden head near the bar. That hair was unmistakable. When he approached the young man, Justin was sweaty and apparently more than a little high. Maybe it was just booze, but Brandon suspected it was something more. He had seen the happy couple share some E and other things the famous Anita gave Kinney. Not that he didn't like this kind of stuff, but Brandon needed his senses at its best to execute his plan.

It wasn't exactly a plan, he corrected himself, just something that was in his head for a long time, but he never acted on it because he never thought he'd have the opportunity. Now, the opportunity presented itself before his eyes, and he wouldn't let it go.

Before Brandon could find something interesting to say to him, Justin Taylor turned to him with glazed eyes.

"Hey." Brandon said. "Still alone?"

"I don't need anyone." Justin closed his eyes and sighed.

"You're right, you don't." Brandon agreed. He touched Justin's shoulder and the young man opened his eyes. "What you need," he added, "is to dance. Come on."

He didn't wait for Justin's reply, just took his hand and led him to the dance floor. The loud music and the lights made Justin stumble a little, but when "Forever Young" started to play, he closed his eyes and smiled. :God, I love this song. It reminds me of…" He didn't finish the sentence, just smiled in that typical drunken haze and started to sway to the music, not even paying attention to Brandon.

"Here." Brandon took a tiny pill from his pocket and handed to Justin. The other man was so far from anything that he just took the pill and swallowed it.

A few minutes later Justin started to dance dancing sensually, rotating his hips with perfection and throwing his arms to the air. He had his head slightly thrown back and his eyes were closed, as if he was in a particular world no one could get in.

It was enticing. And Brandon wanted more.

It was clear the guy was more than stoned now, and Brandon wasn't even sure Justin knew who he was dancing with. Now, Brandon liked to think himself a gentleman, whenever he could. And a gentleman wouldn't take advantage of a stoned person, would he?

He smiled devilishly, looking at the blond in front of him. He looked almost innocent now, his sweaty hair plastered on his forehead, like a young boy who'd been running. But when Justin parted his lips slightly and his pink tongue licked his bottom lip, Brandon's cock didn't agree with his chivalry and jumped happily inside his pants. Chivalry be damned.

He decided to make his move, it was now or never. Brian Kinney would know who Brandon Stuart was. What he could do, just because he wanted to.Brian would learn that he couldn't play with Brandon. If Justin turned him down he was sure no one would notice, they were in a crowded dance floor…but he knew Justin was too far away to care at this point. The world could end and he wouldn't notice. Carefully, he approached the young man's ear and whispered "Let's go to the backroom."

Justin didn't open his eyes; he only smiled slightly and nodded, sighing. Brandon just grabbed his hand again and led him to the backroom of Babylon. Justin followed him obediently, eyes still closed, dreamy smile on his face, jumping a little behind him in rhythm with the music, still lost in its beat and in his world.

Since Babylon was rebuilt, the backroom was completely different, with little leather couches, a few half walls, giving the people a little more privacy. Of course, for the ones who enjoyed watching and being watched, there was still a big area that resembled the old backroom: just walls, horny men and sex.

As they passed through the crowd, Brandon couldn't help but smile at the looks they were getting. Everyone knew who Justin Taylor was. And everyone knew that Justin never fucked other guys when Brian wasn't around, at least looking. That had been their routine for the last two years.

The men on the dance floor looked at Brandon with an almost reverent gaze, and he just smiled at them. They were all intrigued, if not astonished. Was that really Justin, _Brian's _Justin, being pulled by the hand with no resistance at all, and towards the backroom, of all places? Brandon entertained the thought that Brian was at home, probably waiting for Justin, and his blond beau was there, at Brian's own playground, about to be fucked. By no one else but Brandon. Just like he imagined it would be: in front of everyone.

He took Justin to the couch farthest from the backroom's door. He wanted some privacy, wanted to savor every minute of this. He was turned on by Justin, of course, and beneath the tight pants he could see the guy had a great ass. But this was something more. Something like payback.

--

The problem with Brandon was that he hated to be dismissed.

…

"_You can have my ass…but you can't have me."_

_He wanted to sound defiant; it was all he could do not to scream at the man. He had lost the stupid bet and he still didn't understand how. He entertained the idea of not going to Kinney's loft, but he was a man of honor. He'd given his word. _

_Brian was wearing a white wifebeater that did a very good job at showing his wonderful body. For a second, Brandon asked himself what would've happened if he'd won the bet. For a second, he thought he should've asked Brian to bottom for him. _

_Brandon was dressed all in black. He started to take his clothes off slowly, while Brian poured a drink for himself. He saw the way Brian eyed him, not bothering to hide how much he was enjoying this. He looked at him through the panels of the bedroom, glass in hand, sarcastic expression firmly in place, and his cock suddenly twitched. Shit. He wasn't expecting this. He told Brian to take it easy, because he never bottomed, and that was true, but the truth was, he was more than curious to see what would happen between two hot guys who were clearly so alike. More curious than he should have been._

_He finally lay on the bed, ass in the air, asking if Brian wasn't going to collect his prize with a confidence and disdain he didn't exactly feel. He knew how perfect his body was, but Kinney was perfect too. And when he made some comment about his years of expertise, Brandon said his years were numbered, so Brian wouldn't notice how anxious he was. He hated the fact that this man could do this to him: Brian was making him _want _to bottom, and it was so ridiculous and surreal that he almost chuckled. _

_For a few seconds they just stared at each other. Brandon acted as if he didn't care, but in his mind's eyes he was seeing an angry Brian fucking him hard into the mattress just to prove his point. He had a feeling that, if something like that happened, it wouldn't be bad at all._

_Then, Brian half smiled. His intention must've been to give a sarcastic smile, but to Brandon it looked almost sad. Brandon wondered what was inside the other man's head to smile like that. When the brunet picked up his clothes and threw them at him saying "put your pants on' he was so stunned that he only mumbled "Huhn?"_

"_I said put your pants on. Get out." Brian said softly._

"_Whatever you say…you're the winner." He started to put his clothes on, and he couldn't tell if he was relieved or disappointed. Maybe a little bit of each. There would be no prize, and for a minute, Brandon wasn't sure who was losing._

_Brian followed him to the door. _

"_What about Babylon?" Brandon asked. It was the only thing he could say to hide his disappointment. Why the hell he wanted to know what made Brian change his mind? He never bottomed, so he should be glad it wasn't going to happen, right?_

"_You can get inside Babylon whenever you want. Forget the bet, it was a silly thing to do. But you're just banned from the VIP lounge." Brian smirked, and there was the sad smile again. "Like you said, if my years are numbered, Babylon needs to get used to its future king."_

_Brandon frowned. Since when did he worriedif Kinney was sad? He was about to turn around and go when Brian suddenly put one hand on the back of his neck and put his lips very close to Brandon's left ear, whispering: "But don't forget that I won the bet. We could be in that bed now and you can bet your ass, no pun intended, that you'd be screaming, and moaning, and you'd come so hard you'd forget you own name. And you'd never forget who I was, believe me."_

_Brandon bit his lip not to moan, because Brian's words and the hot puffs of air in his year sent shivers down his spine and gave him goose bumps. He was glad he was wearing a long sleeved jacket or this would completely ruin his reputation. Shit, who was this man, how could he give him shivers just _talking_, for crying out loud!_

"_Asshole." Was all that he said and he went down the stairs as fast as he could, trying not to run. Downstairs, he took a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair. God, What the hell had just happened? How the hell had he changed from not wanting Brian to wanting him, just because he knew he wouldn't have him?_

_He thought he had more control than that. How could he, Brandon Stuart, be this frustrated because some asshole didn't fuck him? God, he was getting crazy or what? He should be relieved, right? But the man was irresistible, almost as if he had an unknown magnetism, and Brandon felt the growing bulge in his pants, thinking that Kinney probably had done this on purpose. Bastard._

_He wanted it. Deep inside, he wanted it. Brandon was a top, definitely. But who wouldn't want to be in Brian Kinney's bed? And of course, to be in his bed meant to bottom. But he secretly didn't mind that. He, too, wanted to know what was so wonderful about this man that everybody lusted for him._

_His blood boiled with anger, or was it disappointment?. He was there, naked in Brian's bed, and, as much as he didn't want to admit, starting to get aroused. It was hard to keep the nonchalant façade when Brian's scent was everywhere. The man did smell good. And the bastard dismissed him, just like that, like he wasn't good enough for the 'God's gift to gay Pittsburgh'. Brian didn't want him._

_Earlier, when he was going to the loft, Brandon thought he hated Brian not only because he'd won the bet, but because he was everything Brandon wanted to be and wasn't. Yet. Bottoming always made him feel vulnerable, and Brandon Stuart didn't do vulnerable. But now he hated the guy even more for dismissing him, even if he managed to hide his disappointment about it. Stupid bastard. Who did he think he was? Who was he to dismiss Brandon Stuart, Pittsburgh new best top?_

_He adjusted his pants, feeling the tight fabric of his jeans. "_We could be in that bed now and you can bet your ass, no pun intended, that you'd be screaming, and moaning, and you'd come so hard you'd forget you own name." _Brandon groaned, thinking again of Brian's words and the way they'd made him feel. _Burning. And neglected. _Shit! He needed to take care of that. A trip to the baths was in order._

_--_

Justin sat languidly on the couch without opening his eyes. "I'm spinning," he giggled. "Anita's stuff is strong."

'Anita?' Brandon thought. "Don't worry, I'll take care of you."

Brandon sat beside Justin and nuzzled his neck, earning a soft moan from Justin, who threw his arms lazily around his neck. "Mmmmm…that feels good."

Satisfied with the other's reaction, Brandon started do lick Justin's ear, as his moans grew louder. A hand traveled to his pants and he caressed Justin's cock through the jeans, feeling the guy's hardness and amazed that, for a short person, his length was something to be proud of. When his hand cupped Justin's cock, the young man bucked his hips against Brandon's hand and sighed. "More…" he said dreamily. "I want more, please…"

That 'please' undid Brandon, whose erection couldn't be more painful now. He wanted to fuck the pretty ass he guessed Justin had, he wanted to feel him screaming Brandon's name, and more than that, he wanted Brian Kinney to know everything about it.

His mouth left Justin's ear for his shoulder and he started to suck the spot where the shoulder and the neck met. Encouraged by Justin's moans and sighs, he undid Justin's pants in the blink of an eye and grabbed his cock, causing Justin to yelp.

"You like that?" he purred.

"Yeah…" Justin half whispered, half moaned.

Brandon bit Justin's soft flesh – he loved to bruise his lovers - and at the same time began to stroke his cock, already dripping with precum. Justin arched his back and Brandon bit his shoulder harder. He knew it would leave a mark, but Justin didn't seem to mind, so why would he? "What do you want, Justin?"

The young man bucked his hips again.

"Come on, tell me, what do you want?" Brandon whispered.

"You. I want you, Brian. Please, I can't wait anymore. I want you so much, Brian…You're the only one I want."

Brandon's hand stilled. His whole body stilled. He didn't imagine the guy was so vocal. _'Brian' _?

The absence of movement made Justin open his eyes. And then jumped almost a meter from the couch.

"What the hell are you doing here? Where's Brian?" he practically shouted, looking widely around the place.

Brandon tried to remain calm, he didn't want to attract too much attention, especially now that Justin seemed more awake than Brandon had seen him the whole night. "I guess it's pretty clear he's not here," Brandon said sarcastically.

"B-but…" the young man stuttered. "I…We were here, we danced, he gave me some E, he brought me to the backroom, he was…" he looked lost.

Brandon smiled, amused. "No, he wasn't. It was me all along."

Justin glared at him and buttoned his trousers, then put his hand on his neck.

"You bit me," he said accusingly.

"You loved it." Brandon retorted.

"Asshole. I thought it was Brian." Justin snapped angrily, "How could you…?"

"You wanted it, look at yourself and tell me you didn't."

Justin looked at his pants, at the obvious bulge inside. "I told you…I thought you were Brian."

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind." Brandon said sarcastically. "After all, where is he when you're here, wasted and horny? Frankly, what kind of partner is that?"

Justin blinked, trying to clear his head. He was dizzy, and for a second Brandon pitied the guy. He sill looked around, so lost, looking for Brian…shit, he must've been really stoned.

Brandon left the couch and stopped in front of Justin, mere inches from his face. He touched the spot where he's bitten and Justin winced. "I'm sure you won't regret it if you let me finish what we started. I'm so much better than him, you have no idea. And so. Much. Younger."

Justin gulped audibly and looked at him. He could tell the guy was still trying to understand what had happened. His voice trembled a little when he spoke, almost whispering, but still managing to sound angry. "Shut up. You're not even half the man he is," he said through gritted teeth, and stormed out of the room, stumbling a little in his haste.

Brandon looked at his retreating back and smiled sarcastically. He could feel all eyes on him. He wondered if Hollywood should hire him, he was so good at acting. His smile was sarcastic, but his insides were boiling with repressed lust, frustration and anger. "Please, I can't wait anymore. I want you so much, Brian…" Damn Kinney. "You're the only one I want." Justin's voice filled with lust echoed in his head and to know that lust wasn't for him, was for Brian Kinney, _again_, made him really, really mad.

He fucked at least five different guys that night, hard and fast. It was the only way to take that frustration out of him.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Part 2**_

_Brandon left Seattle because he was bored. He came to Pittsburgh after almost a year traveling, and he liked Pittsburgh from the start. The city suited him, and now that he was rich he could live anywhere. He opened a huge bookstore at Pittsburgh's new mall. In his opinion, it had a sense of refinement, owning a bookstore. He bought a beautiful apartment with his savings, decorated it the best way he could and started his new life. He had found a place where no one cared if he was gay or not, and he was completely in love with the city. Especially Liberty Avenue._

_Brandon loved to stroll across the sidewalks, where he was eyed more than appreciatively by almost every man. He knew he was hot, and his well rehearsed careless attitude added to the mystery of who he was. Suddenly everyone was talking about him, the new guy in town, at how beautiful and hot he was, at how good he was as a top and that he never fucked anyone twice. _

_Here, there was no need to pretend or hide. He could be who he wanted, what he was born to be: a success. In a very short time he envisioned himself as Pittsburgh's best top. The only problem was, Brandon soon found out, that Pittsburgh already had a legendary top: Brian Kinney._

_As soon as he arrived in Pittsburgh, he heard of Brian. He was, according to the entire gay population of Pittsburgh, the best top ever. And they all seemed to know it by experience. The guy was also extremely hot, they said, and wealthy. And he didn't do relationships. _

_Brandon loved competitions because he always managed to win every single one of them. He decided that this Brian Kinney, whoever he was, would have to hand him his crown. His golden days were over. It was time for Pittsburgh to acknowledge a new king._

_He first saw him from a distance when he was at Woody's. When he entered, the whole bar's atmosphere seemed to change. He could easily see that the blond twink happily strolling beside Brian adored him, as did his friends, even if they were not very obvious about it. And he envied Brian Kinney, because he was out and proud, and didn't seem to be afraid to be who he was, and to hell with whoever didn't like his attitude. _

_Brian Kinney had it all: friends, a lover, wealth and was desired by everyone. He also had an aura of confidence about him that seemed to be a natural thing, not Brandon's carefully constructed one. But Brian was old, Brandon was sure he was infinitely better than the brunet: younger, hotter and more beautiful, not to talk about his blond hair… and soon, very soon, everyone would realize that too._

_The problem with Brandon was that things weren't exactly as he thought they would be. Brian Kinney wasn't ready to give up his title so easily. _

_So, weeks later, when Brian approached him at the dance floor at Babylon, Brandon knew to do. He would refuse his advances, dismiss him, make him think he was old, make the man acknowledge that his reign was over and that he, Brandon, was the new stud of Liberty Avenue. _

_He was so sure he would win the bet that he didn't even blink when Brian suggested it. Even knowing that, if he lost, he would have to bottom for Brian, he accepted, because there was no way he could lose. Brian was at least eight years older than him. Who would want to be fucked by the old Brian Kinney when they had the brand new Brandon Stuart around?_

_--_

It was Monday, and Woody's was almost empty, especially at three AM. But 'bored' was Brandon's middle name, so here he was, at the darkest corner near the counter, nursing a beer and thinking about nothing in particular, when Brian Kinney came in with a blank expression.

He walked straight to the bar and sat at a booth across Brandon. "Johnnie Walker," he said.

"We're almost closing, Brian."

"Okay, Al. Won't take long." Brian rested his elbows on the counter and covered his eyes with his hands, sighing.

From where he was, Brandon could see him perfectly, but he knew Brian couldn't see him because he was in the shadows. The bar was almost closing and half the lights were out.

After a few minutes, the bar's door opened again and a frantic Justin Taylor entered, looking around as if searching someone. When he saw Brian he looked so relieved that Brandon tried hard not to laugh. The blond took a deep breath and walked slowly to where Brian was.

"Brian?"

Brian turned around slowly to face him. "Hey," was all he said.

"I was worried." Justin's voice was sad. "You didn't come home last night."

"I was at Mickey's. You can ask him."

"I already did."

Brian just nodded and turned his back to Justin, tiredly resting his head on his hands once more.

At first Brandon felt a little uncomfortable for watching this. It was clearly a very intimate conversation; even Al had gone to the other side of the bar to clean the tables. Then he almost chastised himself. Since when he felt 'uncomfortable' for watching anyone deal with personal matters? Especially Kinney. He loved to see him vulnerable like this; it gave him a sense of triumph to see that Kinney wasn't the self-sufficient sonofabitch he claimed to be. It never ceased to amaze him how this blond twink knew how to play the older man so well…No, he corrected himself. Not a twink. A young man. A delicious young man.

"You look like shit." Justin said softly.

"Maybe that's because I didn't sleep at all last night."

"Neither did I."

Brian looked at his glass and smiled sadly. "Still have trouble to sleep in that big house by yourself…" It was not a question.

Justin half smiled for a second. "Can we talk? We need to."

"Here? I'd rather not. I'm too tired."

"Yes, here and now.' Justin sighed irritably. "Come on, Brian. If we don't talk, this thing will grow and God knows when it will stop. It's already been a week. I don't want you another night away from home."

Brian turned his head to look at him. "You didn't sleep at home Friday night."

" Technically, I did. I arrived at four AM."

"I thought we had an agreement at three AM."

"I thought we didn't need the rules anymore."

Brian raised both his hands in defeat. "Okay, you won; you always win. What do you want from me?"

Justin sat beside Brian and calmly started to speak. "I want you to stop acting like a child. I know you saw the CD and, as always, reached to your own fucked up conclusions –without telling me, of course- and decided I was probably cheating on you."

"I didn't…"

Justin raised his right hand and said gently, "Please, let me finish." He took Brian's glass and drank a little, frowning at the sour taste of the whiskey. "So you went out, got stoned and took a trick to the loft, not without being sure I would know about it the next day." He took a deep breath again. "Since I didn't know why you were acting like an asshole, I went out the following night, got stoned and almost fucked a guy…" Justin sighed. "This has to stop, Brian. We can't go on like this. I hate when we fight. And I definitely can't sleep without you by my side."

Brian's expression softened at this. "I didn't…" he started, then he ran his hands through his hair, drank some whiskey, cleared his throat.

"He's stalling", Brandon thought.

"I didn't do it on purpose. I was at your studio looking for my cell phone when I found it, the CD, in a drawer. 'My Immortal', by Ethan Gold. What a lame title, by the way." His voice trembled a little. "What the hell, Justin? It was written on the back cover: 'I'll never forget the precious moments we shared together. Here are your favorite songs. Love, Ethan.' I saw red from there, I started to go on automatic pilot, don't even remember what I was doing until you slapped me the morning after."

"You deserved it. You brought the trick's underwear home…how could you?"

"I know. I'm an asshole."

"I was really hurt, Brian. So hurt that I had to get out that night. I couldn't even look at you."

"I… wanted to show you that if you could cheat on me I could cheat on you too."

"I didn't cheat on you. The fucking CD arrived by mail last month It was hidden because I didn't want to upset you. I shouldn't have kept it."

"I know you didn't cheat on me."

"You do?"

"The idiot sent a CD to one of Kinnetik's interns with almost the same words written on the back cover. Ted commented; the guy was showing off at the Art department."

Justin chuckled. "He's still using that cheap trick after all this time?"

Brian cleared his throat. "He's an asshole…And so am I." He tossed ten-dollar bill on the counter and got up, grabbing his coat from the counter. "I have to go."

"Home?" Justin asked hopeful, grabbing Brian's wrist.

"Do you really want me to? After what I did?" He looked at Justin, shaking his head, incredulous. "Because, if I were you I wouldn't want to see me again. You did nothing wrong and I…I…" he stuttered.

"Is that why you slept at Mickey's last night?"

"I figured you didn't want me around. After what happened and…"

"I didn't," said Justin, his thumb caressing Brian's wrist. "But when I got home I went to the studio to get my laptop…it was the first time I went there since you tricked…can't paint when I'm angry. Anyway, I found the CD at the studio's floor…and I understood everything."

Brian tried to free his arm, but Justin didn't let him.

"Justin…" he warned.

"Brian…"Justin said, matching his gaze. Then his expression softened, "Why is it so hard for you to talk to me?"

Brandon almost pitied Kinney. He was completely in Justin's hands, exposed, he had no way out of this. The blond's hand on his wrists seemed to burn his skin, because he kept looking at it from time to time.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, so low that if Brandon wasn't hidden he would have asked Kinney to speak louder, he was spoiling the show.

"I don't want to hear that, Brian," Justin said.

"Jesus, Justin!" Brian said, exasperated now. "What do you want me to say?""

"I want you to say that you believe that you're the love of my life, the only one for me, the only one I'll ever want." Justin said with tears almost falling from his eyes. "And I want you to really believe it, Brian. Because I can't picture my life without you. You're everything to me."

Their kiss was hungry and from his hidden point Brandon could hear someone sniffing; he couldn't say if it was Justin or Brian. When the kiss ended, they held each other tight and Justin murmured: "I don't care if your logic is fucked up, or if you drink more than you should, or even if you get mad at me because the bathroom is always a mess…" at this Brian gave a small laugh. "I just don't want you to ever doubt the way I feel about you…because you're the most important thing in my whole life."

Brian's back was turned to Brandon, and he couldn't see his face, but Brandon's jaw almost touched the floor when he heard Brian's reply. "You have no idea how important you are to me, Sunshine. I feel I can't even breathe if you're not around."

They hugged again, and from where he was, Brandon could see Justin's face, with that wonderful smile illuminating the whole place again. Without thinking, he leaned forward to get a better look at that hypnotizing smile.

And then Justin saw him.

Justin froze in Brian's embrace. He looked at Brandon over Brian's shoulder, eyes wide.

Brian noticed the change in Justin and turned his head. His curious expression changed to icy when he saw who it was, and hardened even more when he realized Brandon had seen everything.

Justin looked from Brian to Brandon, alarmed.

Brandon just stared at both men, defiant as always, smiling sarcastically. He doubted Justin had told Brian what had almost happened between them and he doubted even more Brian would like it. He raised an eyebrow at the young man and smirked when Justin gulped.

"Justin…?" Brian asked, puzzled and suspicious, looking from Justin to Brandon.

"Come on, Brian, let's go home." Justin tugged at Brian's sleeve, looking everywhere but at Brandon's eyes.

"Justin?" Brian asked again, menacingly.

"Can't you just trust me?" Justin asked, loosing his composure. "Please, come with me. Now."

Brian looked once more at Brandon. "Alright, let's go," he sighed, taking Justin's hand and leading him outside.

Brandon, still smiling, got up, put on his coat and adjusted his pants. "Go ahead, Kinney, enjoy him while you can. I doubt you'll have much more reasons to celebrate when you find out what happened when your blond went to Babylon by himself," he thought.

"Bye, Al!" he said, throwing a ten dollar bill on the counter like Brian had done before. "Keep the change."

--

_Glitter was falling from the ceiling. Brandon, surrounded by shirtless men, but dressed in black, danced with a sexy smile on his face. He could feel Brian's eyes on him as he danced. The brunet was at the bar, wearing a sleeveless black shirt that showed his strong and well defined arms. Behind him, the ever-present, unattractive Ted Schmidt said something that made him turn his head and Brandon took the opportunity to admire Brian's sculpted profile._

_That night he had dressed himself with special care. It had been almost a week since the fiasco at the loft, and Brandon was going to try to get inside Babylon. He couldn't deny he was a little…apprehensive, for lack of a better word. Although Kinney had said he could get in, he was the owner, he could change his mind anytime. _

_He didn't have any problems getting in. The guy at the door actually smiled and said "Good evening, sir" when he entered. Once inside, Brandon felt at home. Babylon was definitely his kingdom, judging by the suggestive looks he got. He wondered if Brian Kinney got as many lustful looks as he did, but he doubted it. He was younger, better in every aspect, and soon Kinney would realize his kingdom was over._

_As he danced, he looked at the brunet defiantly, as if saying "I'm so much better than you, try to stop me." He smiled slightly, knowing that Brian understood the message he was sending with his eyes.._

_Brian stayed there at the bar, unmoving, resting his right elbow at the counter, looking at him with a half-smile. It was clear he understood Brandon, but he didn't show fear or irritation. Instead, his eyes showed amusement mingled with something Brandon couldn't place, because his beautiful smile didn't reach his eyes. _

_They kept looking at each other for a long time, almost like a staring game. Brandon defying, Brian calmly staring back. But it wasn't simple like that. Brandon wanted to see him accepting he had won the bet, but lost everything else. _He_, Brandon Stuart, was the new Stud of Liberty Avenue and Babylon. He wanted to wipe that smile off of Brian's face, he wanted to have everything Brian had, he wanted Brian to regret the night he let Brandon go. _

_Brian finally broke the eye contact and turned to talk to one of his friends. Brandon kept dancing and looking at his back, trying to figure out how was it possible to hate someone so much and want to be like him at the same time._

_--_

Saturday. Summer night.

The heat of the streets was so much that half the guys were walking around shitless. At Babylon, the heat would be even stronger if it wasn't Studs n Suds night. The loud music and the thumpa thumpa seemed to help the bodies sliding, and frankly, it was much, much better being there than outside.

The problem with Brandon was that he hated Studs n Suds. He was on the catwalk, surveying the crowd with a critical eye. Foam everywhere, he thought disgusted. It looked good enough from a distance, but he would never, ever, put himself in display like that. It was a waste of time, because he didn't need anything like that to prove he was the best; he already knew that; everybody knew that.

He was high. Oh, yes. Tonight he was high, because it was the only way he could endure some stupid night like that. Babylon's Studs n Suds was very popular, and Brandon wondered why Kinney kept that silly night after rebuilding the club, if he never came himself. All in all, being high made the night more bearable. He's already had some E and lots of Chivas Regal (how many doses he didn't know nor cared).

He was one of the few men with his clothes on, and he entertained the thought of going away, perhaps find a fuckable man at Woody's and take him to his apartment. But he was already dizzy and wondered how the hell he would go home. He wouldn't let any stupid guy drive his brand new Ferrari.

A short brunet guy approached him with a yellow paper in hand. "Excuse me, sir?" he shoved the paper at Brandon's hand.

Brandon blinked a few times, trying to focus his vision on the tiny paper in the guy's hands. "What's this?" Shit, was he that wasted?

The guy looked at him like he was retarded. "It's a pass for the VIP lounge," he said matter-of-factly, as if it was obvious. Having being banned from the VIP lounge forever, Brandon didn't know how the damn pass looked like.

"May I ask to what do I owe the honor?"

"Mr. Kinney's orders, sir." At Brandon's raised eyebrows the man added, "His orders were that anyone with too much clothes on should a pass. He doesn't want unsatisfied customers."

"I don't care about what 'Mr. Kinney' thinks.

The guy actually sighed and rolled his eyes. "Of course you don't sir." He shoved the paper in Brandon's hand. "I'm just doing my job." He turned around and left, not giving him any time to reply.

Brandon looked at the paper in his hand. Shit …would he ever have another chance to see the VIP room? Hadn't Brian banned him from it _forever_?

He smiled a little and went to the bar. "Chivas Regal. Make it double." He could see Kinney raging with anger when he found out that Brandon had gone inside the VIP room. Stupid asshole, he hadn't predict that one day Brandon would get inside his brand new playground. "Shit." He said out loud. Here he was, high on booze and E, horny as hell (well he was _always_ like that), with an invitation to go to the VIP room (that fell on his lap), and he could bet his index finger that only the hottest men (and the richer) got inside the VIP room…but tonight, when he was high? Was it wise?

He suddenly made a decision, with alcohol and drugs as advisers. "What the hell, let's see what happens there." He was Brandon Stuart, known and respected. _No one _would try anything silly with him. And since when did he care for what was wise and prudent? Besides, if he found a hot guy inside he was sure he could even have a good time.

The VIP lounge was everything he imagined. And more. It didn't even feel like Babylon. The climate was controlled, there was a soft music playing, the place was dim-lit but he could see everything perfectly well.

There were big, comfortable couches everywhere, some the size of a bed, especially at the corners and places where the light didn't exactly reach. From the ceiling, drapes adorned the spaces between the couches, giving the place a sense of privacy that Brandon liked immediately. The fabric was white, almost transparent but not quite, and through it he could see the shadows of two men together in an embrace o the nearest couch. It was beautiful. The place was wonderful.

He walked further in the room, noticing that there weren't many people inside. Most of the queens were at Studs n Suds, Brandon thought; this place wasn't for everyone, only for those special men with good taste. The place suited him, he thought. It was really special, no wonder you hade to practically sell a kidney to buy a permanent pass.

He walked in further, admitting the way the dim light reflected on the floor, drapes, walls and glass everywhere. Without realizing it, he reached the last couch and sat down on it, delighted to see how soft it was. Suddenly, he felt gentle but strong hands on his shoulders from behind.

"Don't turn around."

Brandon started to get up, but the hands' grip grew tighter. "I said: don't turn around."

The voice was familiar, but Brandon couldn't identify the owner. The person was standing behind him, but even if he looked up he couldn't identify the guy. His face was hidden by the shadows and he was all in black, so it was really hard to see. So Brandon focused on the hands. Hands that were now roaming his chest and slowly starting to unbutton his shirt. They were pale and soft to the touch. Not a hard worker, then.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Shhh. Don't talk." The hands caressed his neck lightly, and the spot behind his ear, sending shivers through his spine. They seemed delicate, but strong at the same time, and he could tell these hands knew how to give pleasure, by the way they were now running across his torso. Brandon sighed, throwing his head back. He liked these hands, definitely. He decided he didn't care who they belonged to, as long as they kept doing that.

"Do you like that?" the mysterious guy asked softly, running slightly calloused thumbs over Brandon's nipples.

If Brandon's head wasn't spinning from alcohol and E, there was no way he would let this thing keep going on without knowing who the guy was, but now he had lust to add to the haze in his head, and he was so aroused by the fact that the guy was enticing him only with his hands that he couldn't care less. "Yeah…" was all he said.

"Close your eyes." The anonymous man purred next to his ear.

Brandon complied, inhaling deeply and feeling the man's scent. He smelled of aftershave and soap. That was one of the things that really turned him on: the smell. And this guy's was delicious. He felt the man moving from behind him and his stomach clenched in anticipation. He was now hovering above him, and Brandon gasped when he felt the man straddle him. He wasn't too heavy, so Brandon assumed the guy was slim and shorter than him.

He heard a whisper. "Open your eyes."

For a second he wondered if he really wanted to open his eyes, if it wasn't better to let the mystery remain, so aroused he was by it. But when he opened them, he didn't regret. He blinked a few times to be sure.

"Justin Taylor." he said half smiling.

"You're high." Justin said.

Brandon felt his shirt sliding over his shoulders with the help of those beautiful hands, artist's hands. "Yes", was all he was able to say. Justin Taylor was a beautiful, beautiful man.

"Don't worry…" the younger blond whispered. "I'll take care of you."

Justin ran his hands over Brandon's chest and he kept going lower and lower until he found his belt. He started to unfasten it, all the time maintaining eye contact, with a seductive and playful smile that kept Brandon hypnotized.

When Justin's hands started to unzip his pants, Brandon held his hands. "I want you." he said in a husky voice.

Justin leaned on him until his mouth was only an inch from Brandon's. "Patience." he purred. His mouth traveled to Brandon's neck and he gently sucked the place where the neck met the shoulder.

Brandon's hands traveled automatically to Justin's waist and the young man increased the pressure, the sucking turning into biting. Brandon moaned and started to open Justin's shirt.

Justin's hands held Brandon's. "Wait." he said, with the most seductive smile Brandon had ever seen. "I'll do it for you."

Brandon almost whimpered when Justin left his lap, his painful erection complaining from the loss of contact. But Justin was in front of him now, and his hands gently on Brandon's shoulders, pulling his back against the soft couch. "A show just for you." He smiled. "You won't regret it."

"Wait." Brandon's head was spinning with lust now, but the last coherent thought penetrated the haze he was in. He grabbed Justin's hand and looked at him questioningly. "What about Kinney?"

"What about him?" Justin smiled again and walked two or three steps away from Brandon, stopping with his back turned to the older man. Then he turned his blond head and looked at him seductively. "Do you care about what he thinks?"

"No." Brandon answered with heavy lidded eyes, unable to take his eyes from Justin's bubble butt.

"So…why should I?"

The VIP room's music was perfect. Not too loud and not too low. Almost like background music but not quite; just the right volume to create an intimate and seductive atmosphere. Justin's body started to sway to the music. The young man started to dance and Brandon realized he couldn't tear his eyes off him. He remembered vaguely of someone telling him that Justin was King of Babylon once. He could see why.

Justin was facing him now, and Brandon, hypnotized, saw the blond's hands starting to unbutton the black silk shirt he was wearing, revealing pale skin that seemed so, so soft to the touch. When Justin took the shirt off, Brandon almost gasped when he saw a nipple ring shining faintly in the dim light. He wanted to touch it so much it hurt.

"Do you like what you see?" Justin asked huskily, sending shock waves along Brandon's spine.

Oh, yes. He did. Very much. "Come here." he said to the young man.

Justin shook his head no. "You're not ready." he said, indicating with his eyes Brandon's pants only with the top button undone. Justin started to unzip his black pants, revealing black underwear that made a beautiful contrast with his pale skin. Brandon mirrored Justin's movements, unzipping his own pants and touching his painfully hard cock.

"Yeah, that's right." Justin whispered. "Look at me." he said, licking his lips as his hand disappeared inside his pants and underwear. "Look and imagine all the dirty things we could do together. Imagine how you would make me scream when I came."

Would? No, Justin wasn't getting it right. He _was_ going to make Justin scream, and it wouldn't be long now. It was mere minutes from happening. "Comehere…" he said again, but Justin, instead of moving, kept looking at a point behind Brandon, above his head, eyes heavy lidded with desire.

Brandon sighed, impatient. What the hell? He decided to get up to get the boy. But when he started to move, another pair of hands grabbed his shoulders from behind, this time not too gently.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?"

Brandon froze. _That voice_ he knew. Brian Kinney.

In the blink of an eye, Brian was in front of him, both hands on his chest, only to be sure he wouldn't move.

"You can't have him." he snarled. "Never."

Through his astonishment, Brandon realized Brian was shitless and as aroused as he was. Behind the brunet, looking straight at Brandon now, Justin said, "Did you really think I would want you when I have him?"

Brandon looked at the smiling blond and realization dawned on him. "You set this up."

"So clever." Brian murmured. "So clever, that you tried to have him while he was high. In Babylon, of all places. He might have been wasted, but you weren't." Brian raised an eyebrow, smiling sarcastically at him. "Consider this show a gift. A sample of what he can do to you. The same I could have done that day, if I'd wanted to."

Brandon could feel his face reddening each passing second with anger. Mostly with himself. How could he be so stupid and not see this coming?

"I don't want to see you near him ever again. You can't touch him. And you definitely can't bite him." He looked at Brandon with disdain. "Because he's mine." He grabbed Brandon by the shoulders again, hard. "You want so much to be me…You want the title? The fame? This place? I don't care." He shoved Brandon painfully hard against the couch. "You can fill your head with illusions and pretend to be me, I don't give a shit. But don't forget just one thing: He. Is. Mine."

Brian gave Brandon one last glare. "Why would he want the imitation when he has the original?" Then he walked to where Justin was, kissing him so hard that Brandon saw the blond's knees actually buckling. Justin melted into Brian, and the brunet's grip on him was possessive, Brian's hands sinking in Justin's blond hair, Brian kissing Justin with a primal hunger that made Justin whimper, the pale artist's hands gripping Brian's shoulders with passion.

"Take me home, Brian." Justin murmured against Brian's mouth, both men panting hard, chests heaving, foreheads resting against each other's.

Brian's arm encircled Justin's waist. But he looked at Brandon once more. "I hope you enjoyed the show. That's only a little taste of what you'll never have. And don't fuck with me again."

Justin blinked at him and added: "Sorry… But revenge is a dish that's best when served cold."

There was nothing Brandon could do, except look at the couple as they walked together as if glued, smiling widely at each other in a public display of affection that made him sick. He looked around to see if someone had seen what had happened, but luckily, it looked everyone was busy with their own lives. Hard to know, in an almost dark place like that.

"One of these days, Kinney…" he muttered between teeth, starting to zip his pants.

The problem with Brandon was that he wanted so much to be Brian Kinney that he forgot to be himself.


End file.
